


Take Your Medicine

by Mnemophobia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Oppression, Omega Verse, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemophobia/pseuds/Mnemophobia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was vague about Sam’s actual diagnosis, saying only that it was a ‘blood disorder’, but it must have been serious because Sam wasn't even allowed visitors during his three days in the hospital. Sam’s illness wasn't something they talked about after that, except when it came to his medication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sam and Dean are underage in chapter one, but this fic does not contain underage sex. 
> 
> I've tagged this fic with what I expect it to contain in the future, but it might be a few chapters before we get there and tags and ratings may change along the way.

“I’ll be back in about two weeks,” John said as he shoved the last of his clothes into his old military duffel. 

“Why can’t we come with you? Two weeks is a long time,” Sam complained as he frowned at his father from behind his pre-algebra book. 

“You’ll be safer here. Besides, you’re already settled into school. Might as well finish out the semester,” John said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “We don’t mind changing schools,” he said with an apathetic shrug. School hadn't mattered for him for years now and Sam seemed to thrive no matter how often they moved around.

John gave his elder son a hard look, warning him not to push. Dean had been getting a lot of those looks lately, ever since he’d “presented” two summers ago. These days most kids knew what they’d be from the very start thanks to a series of tests given at birth, but since he and Sam had both been born back before those tests were available they’d just have to wait until their secondary gender presented itself during puberty. 

“The emergency fund is -” John began before he was cut off by Dean. 

“In the bible. For emergencies only,” Dean interrupted, finishing his father’s lecture from memory. The interruption earned him another harsh glare. Fortunately John was in too much of a hurry to do more than that. 

“Go to school. Stay inside. Keep the door locked. Call Bobby if there’s an emergency. Make sure Sam takes his medicine,” John listed while Dean mouthed the words sarcastically. 

John caught the disrespect but didn't even bother glaring this time. Dean’s behavior was typical of a young Alpha and Dean knew he could get away with it. 

Dean had been an early bloomer for an Alpha, but his dad had been so proud of him that they’d gone out for a steak dinner that night. It had been one of the best nights that Dean could remember. The only downside was the nagging feeling of guilt knowing that Sam would never get a celebration like that. The poor kid was destined to be a Beta for sure. Family’s rarely had two Alpha children. 

John slung the duffel over his shoulder and crossed the room to put his arm around Dean. “I mean it, Son. I’m counting on you to be responsible here. Take care of Sam. Make sure he gets his medicine,” John said as he squeezed him tight around the shoulders.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean muttered. He didn't need a lecture on being responsible or taking care of Sam. He’d been doing that for as long as he could remember.

John gave Dean’s shoulder a rough slap before moving to his younger son to tousle his shaggy hair. “Listen to your brother and take your pills,” John said with a gentle tone he seemed to reserve just for Sam.

Dean followed his father to the door and secured the deadbolt after him. He double checked the windows and then went to rifle through their supplies for dinner. 

“What’ll it be, Sammy, ravioli or meatballs?” Dean asked, holding up the cans of cheap pasta. 

Sam looked up from his book and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, returning his attention to his homework. 

“You've gotta eat, kiddo,” Dean sighed. He hated feeding Sam this crap, but there weren't a lot of options and they were lucky that their motel room even had a microwave and a mini-fridge. 

“I ate a big lunch at school today,” Sam said. 

Dean slammed the cans down on the counter and Sam’s eyes snapped up from his book again. “Don’t lie to me, Sammy. They serve the same crap at your school as they do at mine and I know you didn't eat it,” Dean accused. 

Sam looked back down at his book and pretended he hadn't heard his brother. 

A few months ago Dean wouldn't have cared so much. There had been plenty of times that Sam had skipped meals out of stubbornness. But things were different now. Sam was different. 

Sam had never been sick a day in his life until two months ago when Dean went to pick him up from school only to find that he’d already been sent home by the nurse. After three terrifying hours with no idea where Sam was, John finally got around to calling him from the hospital. 

John was vague about Sam’s actual diagnosis, saying only that it was a ‘blood disorder’, but it must have been serious because Sam wasn't even allowed visitors during his three days in the hospital. Sam’s illness wasn't something they talked about after that, except when it came to his medication. 

It was just a little green pill that Sam had to take every night, but those pills had become the most important thing they owned. Every time they packed Dean had to triple check that they had Sam’s medication and every time John left on a hunt his parting words were a reminder to make sure Sam took his pills. Dean wasn't sure just how sick Sam would get if he missed a dose, but it wasn't something he wanted to find out.

Dean tossed the canned food back on the counter and grabbed his coat. “Come on. You can put that book down for an hour, right?” Dean said, heading for the door. 

“What? Where are we going?” Sam asked as he dropped his book into his backpack along with his finished homework. He’d only been pretending to study for the last half hour while he watched Dean fight with their father. 

“We’re going to get something to eat. There’s a diner a few blocks from here,” Dean said, throwing Sam’s coat at him.

“Dean, we don’t have the money for that,” Sam objected, clutching his coat tightly without putting it on. It wasn't fair for Dean to get his hopes up like that. 

“Sure we do. You think I don’t have my own emergency stash that dad doesn't know about?” Dean asked, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin. 

“This isn't an emergency, Dean. I’m just tired of spaghettiOs,” Sam said, eyes downcast with guilt. 

Dean grabbed Sam’s coat from him then and tugged it around his shoulders. “Shut up, Sam. You need to eat or you’re going to be a scrawny nerd the rest of your life” he said, pushing his little brother toward the door. 

An hour later Dean watched as Sam finished off a slice of pie and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan. He hadn't seen Sam eat so much in one sitting in months. It was such a relief to see Sam eating that Dean didn't even care that he’d be skipping lunch for the next two weeks just to pay for it.

“Take your medicine, Sammy,” Dean reminded, pushing the bottle of green pills across the table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knows better than to let his 14-year-old brother tag along on a hunt.

The heady scent of omega assaulted Dean the moment he set foot inside. People liked to say he scent of omega reminded them of sweetgrass or wildflowers. In Dean’s opinion, those comparisons were sentimental nonsense meant to flatter omegas. Nothing, especially not some stinking plant, could compare to the scent of an omega in heat.

“Can you open a window or something?” Dean said as he retreated in search of fresh air. At eighteen years old, Dean was both in the prime of his fertility and too young to have acquired much self control when it came to fertile omegas.

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother and peered inside the darkened house with a flashlight. “I don’t smell anything,” he said.

“You have no idea how lucky you are. The place stinks of omega. Some runaway probably holed up in here to avoid being bred,” Dean replied. Runaway omegas were such a common occurrence that Dean wasn’t even surprised anymore. He just wished they’d stop picking haunted houses for hideouts.

“Do you think they’re still here?” Sam asked, leaning in a little farther without actually crossing the threshold of the house.

“We won’t know until we check it out. Now go open a window. If there’s an omega in there they won’t see you as a threat,” Dean said. He gave Sam a shove to get him through the doorway and stood just outside, shotgun in hand. Under normal circumstances Dean wouldn’t be letting his fourteen year old brother tag along on a hunt like this at all, let alone sending him into the place first. These weren’t normal circumstances though. John had been out of town nearly a month and something suspicious was definitely going on in the town they were currently calling home.

Sam stumbled inside and tucked his flashlight under one arm. The open door let in enough moonlight to illuminate the center of the room, but the corners were eerily dark. He gripped the edge of the nearest window and pulled hard, but frame only creaked. “I think they’re painted closed,” Sam shouted.

“Great,” Dean muttered as he pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose and stepped inside. The house looked at least a hundred years old and if he hadn’t spotted a record player from the 70s in the corner, Dean would have figured no one had been in there for at least that long. The house was covered in a layer of dust at least an inch thick and the only footsteps disturbing it belonged to Sam.

“Shine the light over there,” Dean said, pointing toward some furniture piled up in the corner. The dust looked a little thinner there and it looked exactly like the sort of small space a frightened omega would use for a den.

Sam skimmed the light across the room and hovered over the pile of furniture. “I don’t see anything, Dean. It doesn’t look like anybody has been in here for years. Are you sure we have the right place?” Sam asked.

“This is definitely the place, Sam. If you had a sense of smell you wouldn’t be asking such stupid questions,” Dean said. The undisturbed dust was suspicious, but the scent of omega was undeniable.

Sam swept the room with his flashlight again, lingering over a few faded portraits on the wall. “Yeah, but what does an omega scent have to do with three missing Alphas?” he asked.

“Come on, Sam. Use that genius brain of yours,” Dean said. He ripped the flashlight out of Sam’s head and continued the search, heading for the stairs where the scent seemed to be stronger.

Sam hung back, still staring at the portraits in the darkness.

“The scent has everything to do with Alphas disappearing. They were probably lured here by the scent. Whatever ganked them is probably just using the Omega as bait. So we’d better find it before it gets bored and kills the omega too,” Dean explained as he climbed the stairs. It was only when he felt the sudden drop in temperature at the top of the stairs that he realized he’d left Sam behind.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, but it was too late. An ethereal figure swooped through the room, knocking Sam back into the pile of furniture before charging straight at Dean. The flashlight slipped from his hands and bounced down the stairs, the light going out about halfway down. Dean’s heart hammered against his ribs as he fumbled with the shotgun. Sam was in his line of fire, but if he didn’t take the shot they were both good as dead. Forgetting all his training, Dean closed his eyes and took the shot. The ghost let out a howl and Sam gave a cry of his own as they were both peppered with rock salt.

The spirit disappeared with an enraged cry and Dean nearly dropped his shotgun in his haste to get to his brother. “Sammy!” he yelled as he dropped to his knees beside his brother and tried to asses the damage in the dark.

“You hit me, you jerk!” Sam shouted as he punched his brother in the shoulder as hard as he could.

Dean laughed and swept his brother up into a hug. “Jesus, Sam. You were supposed to be right behind me,” he sighed with more relief than anger.

“And you’re supposed to make sure you have a clear shot before you fire,” Sam countered with a pained smile.

Dean’s stomach twisted with guilt as he searched Sam for wounds. His jacket was torn and when Dean pulled at the fabric he could feel the sticky wetness of blood seeping from a fresh wound on Sam’s chest. “Shit,” Dean breathed. He quickly got to his feet and pulled Sam up with him. “Come on, we’ve got to get you out of here,” Dean said.

Sam gripped Dean’s arm as he got to his feet. The front of his shirt and his jacket were shredded from the impact of the rock salt, but the wounds were shallow. The worst of them was a deep scratch across his neck that had drawn enough blood to soak the collar of his shirt.

“What about the omega?” Sam asked, trying to hang back as Dean dragged him towards the door.

“I’ll worry about the omega. You’re getting out of here,” Dean insisted.

Dean reached for the door only to have it slip through his fingers as the door was violently slammed shut, depriving them of what little moonlight had illuminated the room. Dean instinctively grabbed his little brother and jerked him closer. “Sam! Salt!” he barked.

“ _Let him go! Get away from him!_ ” a spectral voice howled from the shadows. A figure flickered into existence before them. The features of his pale face were distorted by a trail of bruises that ran down one side of his face and around his throat. What was left of his clothing was torn and left hanging from his gaunt body.

While Dean was left stunned and starring, Sam scrambled for the salt in his jacket. He whipped the container at the specter, chasing him away temporarily. Sam quickly spread the salt in a circle around the two of them, but Dean continued to stand there as if he’d been petrified.

“Dean?” Sam said, giving his brother’s shoulder a shake. “Dean, what the hell!”

Dean sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, nearly choking on the potent scent that hung in the air. “He’s the omega,” he sputtered, finally putting two and two together. They weren’t looking for some creature that was using an innocent omega as bait. The omega ghost was the monster.

“What?” Sam asked, clinging a little tighter to his brother’s jacket.

“Sammy, open the door,” Dean instructed as he gripped the gun tight and kept a lookout for the ghost.

Sam reached for the door and this time found that it opened easily without any spectral interference. Dean ushered them both out the door and ran for the car, this time keeping a hand on Sam to make sure he followed.   
“Are we just going to leave him?” Sam objected as they ran.

“What do you want to do, Sammy? Bring the ghost with us? Come on, we’ve got research to do,” Dean said, shoving his brother into the car.

The town library wouldn’t be open until early the next morning, which left Sam and Dean with nothing to do but go back to the motel and wait.

“Get inside and check the windows,” Dean said as he parked just outside the dingy motel they’d called home for the last three weeks. While Sam let himself in to their room Dean checked the trunk for supplies. He picked up some more ammunition and a couple of old books before following Sam inside.

Sam was in the bathroom with the first aid kit, trying in vain to reach all the places the rock salt had nicked him. The bathroom door was wide open, giving Dean a clear view of the damage he’d done. “You look like hell,” Dean said, his voice heavy with guilt.

Sam looked up and forced a smile. “It’s not that bad. It hurts like hell but they’re just scratches. Can you give me a hand with the bandages?” he asked, holding out the antiseptic for Dean.

Dean double checked the doors and windows before joining Sam in the bathroom. He grabbed the antiseptic and dabbed at the streaks of blood that ran down Sam’s right side. “You didn’t bleed as bad as I’d thought,” he commented.

“Guess that means the meds are working,” Sam hissed, his teeth clenched tight against the stinging pain. A few bruises had already formed on Sam’s ribs and his chest was covered in angry red welts, but the rock salt had only broken his skin in a few places.

“Yeah, well, I still don’t like risking it. It was stupid for me to take you along,” Dean grumbled. Taking a fourteen year old kid on a hunt was stupid. Taking a sick fourteen year old kid on a hunt was just insane.

“It would be stupider to go by yourself,” Sam countered.

Dean sighed as he carefully stuck bandages over the worst of Sam’s wounds. “Lets just get some sleep and hit the library in the morning. I want to know what the hell we’re dealing with before we go back,” he said.

\----------------------

  
“I think I found something,” Sam whispered, leaning across the library table.

Dean looked up from his stack of newspapers. Evidently Sam had been having better luck with his research. “You’re supposed to be reading crime reports, not old books. What did you find?” he asked.

“I think I know what attacked us in that house. Have you ever heard of a Eros spirit?” Sam asked, flipping open an old book to a page with a gruesome illustration that looked more than a little familiar.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said arrogantly. “Remind me again what they are?” he added as he craned his neck to read the text.

Sam pulled the book back and read directly from the page. “It says here that an Eros spirit is the ghost of an Omega that died from ‘heat exhaustion’. Eros spirits are said to be especially common in times of war when there may be a shortage in available Alphas,” Sam quoted. He shook his head in disgust and looked up at Dean. “I’ve never even heard of heat exhaustion. The medical dictionary said sometimes Omegas go crazy if there’s no alpha around. They stop eating and sleeping and then they die of dehydration and heart failure,” Sam explained.

Dean scowled and ripped the book from his brother’s hands to see for himself. “Nobody lets that sort of barbaric shit happen to Omegas anymore. There are medical treatments. And that spirit didn’t look like it was from that long ago. That hair and those clothes were straight out of the 70s,” Dean said.

“But it says that you can detect an Eros spirit by the presence of Omega scent when there are no Omegas near, and right here it says that Eros spirits are known for luring and killing Alphas to kill them!” Sam said, pointing to the relevant paragraph.

“Alright, lets say that this thing is an Eros Spirit, how are we supposed to deal with it?” Dean asked, still not convinced.

“The usual, salt and burn the body. We just have to figure out who it is, but now that we know how he died it shouldn’t be hard. I’m going to go check out the microfiche,” Sam said confidently.

Dean watched his brother disappear into one of the back rooms of the library before turning his attention back to his stack of newspapers. He tried to focus on the obituaries and crime reports, but his thoughts kept drifting to his encounter with the ghost. It sure hadn’t seemed like it was trying to seduce him.

An hour later Sam came rushing back to the table with a handful of photocopies. “So get this!” Sam started excitedly. “In 1974 there were two mysterious deaths in that house. The owner of the house was found dead along with an unnamed and unknown omega. The owner’s death was ruled an accident, but they list the Omega’s death as ‘natural causes’. They never figured out who he was,” Sam said rapidly as he spread the news articles out in front of his brother.

“Great, now all we have to do is find the grave of some unknown omega,” Dean said pessimistically as he looked over photocopied articles.

“I already found it,” Sam said, puffing up with pride. “Since he was a John Doe he’ll be buried in the city cemetery. It’s been closed for a couple of decades so we shouldn’t have a problem getting in unnoticed.” Sam dropped a copy of the city records in front of his brother and smiled proudly.

“Good job, Sammy,” Dean praised genuinely. “Lets head back to the hotel and get some sleep while we can. It’s going to be a long night.”

Dean scooped up the stack of photocopies and stuffed them into his bag. Sam had done a damn good job on research, but Dean wasn’t going to give him any more than a pat on the shoulder for it. That’s all John had ever given him. Besides, the hard part was going to be actually digging up the damn grave, and Sam’s skinny arms weren’t going to be much good for that.

Sam and Dean headed back to the hotel to rest until sundown. Even with the curtains drawn and the TV playing quiet static for white noise, Dean couldn’t get much sleep. He listened to Sam snoring softly in the bed beside him, but there was too much on his mind. He should have known what a damn Eros spirit was. He should have known better than to bring Sam into that house. He needed to be better at this, if only for Sam.

It was nearly 2 am when Dean quietly rolled out of bed and pulled his shoes on. He didn’t bother leaving a note for Sam. He’d be back before morning anyway and Sam was likely to sleep through the night without ever knowing the difference. It wasn’t like it took two people to dig up a grave anyway.

The cemetery was unattended when Dean arrived, just as Sam had predicted. The whole place was overgrown and decayed, which made Dean’s job a lot easier. He pushed his way past the rusted gate and searched for the grave matching the date on his newspaper photocopy. It took Dean half the night to dig up the grave and the rest of the night for the body to burn, but the procedure was routine.

Dean was filthy and exhausted by when he made it back to the motel in the morning. He’d thought about stopping to pick up some breakfast for Sam, but he couldn’t bring himself to set foot in his favorite diner still covered in cemetery dirt.

“Hey Sammy, what do you say we go get some celebration breakfast as soon as I clean this filth off of me?” Dean said, announcing his presence as he entered the motel room and headed straight for the shower. When he didn’t get an immediate answer he glanced over at the bed, but saw nothing but tangled bed sheets and a note written on notebook paper.

Dean snatched up the note, his heart already racing as he braced himself for the worst.

_Dean,_

_I woke up after you left. I can’t believe you went without me, you jerk. I was just going to wait for you, but I was reading through the rest of those news articles and I found something else. After the house was sold to new owners they tried to remodel and guess what they found? Bones in the walls! I’m going to go check it out. I hope you’re done with the grave before I get there and that you get this note before housekeeping does._

_Sam_

“Son of a bitch!” Dean swore. He couldn’t get back out to his car fast enough. The house was only a few minutes away, but that didn’t stop Dean from running every red light and speeding the whole way.

“Sammy!” Dean bellowed as he burst through the front door. The morning sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the house and revealing what Dean hadn’t seen before. The hardwood floor of the living room was riddled with carpet nails, as if someone had ripped up the carpeting but stopped halfway through the job. When Dean’s gaze made it to the corner of the room he saw why. Most of the floor was a light honey blond, but in the corner of the room there were deep, dark stains. It might have just looked like a half-finished floor staining job if it hadn’t been for the smeared hand prints beside it.

Dean’s eyes traveled up to the peeling wallpaper and his stomach twisted as he saw the paint beneath. Rusty red hand prints smeared down the wall, as if someone had used the last of their strength to pull themselves up only to fall down again. Dean rushed through the rooms of the main floor, looking for any sign of his little brother.

“SAM!” Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. He listened for a moment, wishing his heart would stop beating so loudly so he could listen for a response. When several silent seconds had passed, Dean charged up the stairs to continue his search.

Each room was worse than the one before. It was apparent that the home renovation had turned into a criminal investigation at some point. Carpeting was ripped up, floorboards removed, and in every room a large segment of wall was missing. Dean didn’t have time to investigate further. He rushed through each room, searching only for his brother. Dean’s panic grew when he stood in the master bedroom and found that empty as well. He checked the closet a second time, but this time noticed something he hadn’t before. A small tile on the ceiling looked slightly loose. He stood on his toes and nudged it, finding that the tile could be moved. It was an access point to the attic!

Dean climbed the shelving of the closet and pulled himself up into the crawl space. He squinted in the darkness, cursing himself for forgetting a flashlight again. Unwilling to go back and get one, Dean felt his way around the small space until his hand landed on something warm. “Sam!” he shouted. The limb beneath his hand twitched and Dean finally exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Come on Sammy, I’ve got you,” Dean said as he dragged his brother’s limp body towards the exit.

They were nearly there when Dean suddenly met resistance. He pulled Sam towards the entrance to the closet but found that he couldn’t go any further. Sam gave a pained groan and Dean squinted, trying to make out what was topping them. It was then that he saw the shackles and chain anchoring Sam’s leg to a wall stud.

“Shit,” Dean swore. He tested the chain for a weak point, pulling as hard as he could, but it didn’t budge. “It’s okay, Sammy. I’ll get you out of here,” he assured his brother. He tried hard not to think about why Sam wasn’t answering him or didn’t seem to be capable of moving on his own. Right now he had to focus on getting out.

“Keys,” Sam mumbled.

“I know, Sammy. I don’t have the keys,” Dean said, relieved that Sam was at least conscious even if he wasn’t exactly helpful. “Wait! I saw keys somewhere,” Dean said, scrambling back towards the closet. “I’ll be right back, Sammy. I swear. I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised.

It was waiting for Dean when his feet hit the floor. Dean might have called it a ‘he’, but ‘it’ seemed more appropriate. It barely resembled anything human anymore. The truly evil spirits rarely did. The ones that were as evil in life as they were in death always had that sort of look about them; evil and twisted, their spectral form reflecting the hideousness of their soul.

“ _He’s mine!_ ” the spirit snarled. His primal growl in his voice was enough to explain everything. This was the ghost of an alpha. Probably the alpha that had painted the walls with blood and hidden bones in every wall of the house. Dean had heard stories like this before; Alphas so sick with a perverted sense of ownership that they murdered their own mates. From the look of things, this Alpha had done it more than once.

Dean tried to keep a level head. He still had his shotgun in hand, but if he shot the damn thing it would just reappear again and it might go after Sam instead. “Sammy? You don’t want him. He’s all limbs. Clumsy too. Besides, he’s not even an omega,” Dean said as he edged towards the keyhook next to the bedroom door. He could see a small brass key dangling there. It looked just about the right size for the lock on his brother’s chains.

“ _Don’t lie to me!_ ” the spirit raged with such force that the windows shook.

“Alright, alright. If you really want him,” Dean said. He feigned left, pretending to step aside and give the ghost access to the attic. “You can go fuck yourself!” Dean shouted as he used the opportunity to take his shot. The ghost dissipated with an angry howl and Dean quickly threw down a line of salt across the doorway to the closet. He snatched the key off the wall and ran back for Sam.

Dean’s hands shook so violently that it was difficult to get the key in the lock. It didn’t help that Sam was now conscious enough to panic and make things even more difficult. “Hold still!” Dean ordered. Sam went motionless and the lock finally opened with a snap. Dean lowered Sam through the opening in the closet and then jumped down beside him.

“Go!” Dean barked, pushing his brother toward the door as he covered him with the shotgun. It took two more rounds of rock salt before they were able to make it outside. Sam stumbled to the car looking as pale as the ghost they’d just escaped. He sank down into the passenger seat and stared straight ahead, motionless and breathing shallowly.

Dean waited until they had a few miles behind them before reaching over to touch his brother’s bloody sleeve. “It’s going to be okay, Sammy. You’re okay,” Dean said, though his own voice shook with uncertainty.

“I’m okay,” Sam repeated, his voice hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two took a lot longer than I expected. I have a lot of excuses. I got sick, then I got swamped with work, then I lost my groove. Once I sat down and forced myself to work it all seemed to come together. I'm happy with the end result. I know this is a slow build and I haven't answered many questions yet, but I'll get there.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter was published without any beta reading so if you caught an error or typo please tell me. 
> 
> I'm planning on a once a week posting schedule for now, though I may post more often if I get really into it. 
> 
> Let me know if you have any suggestions!


End file.
